


The God and The Thief

by FourAlignments



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Aftermath of Violence, Alterative Design for En Sabah Nur, Alternate History - 80s, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternative Universe -World War III, Angst and Drama, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bad Parent Erik Lehnsherr, Creepy En Sabah Nur, Cult Behavior, Daddy Issues, Dysfunctional Relationships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Erik Lehnsherr Makes Bad Choices, Erik Lehnsherr's Questionable Parenting, Gen, Genosha, Good Sibling Pietro Maximoff, Hurt Pietro Maximoff, Hurt/Comfort, I Blame Tumblr, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Mind Control, Inspired By Tumblr, More Than Just Mind Control, Oscar Isaacs Deserved Better, Parent Erik Lehnsherr, Peter Maximoff Has Abandonment Issues, Peter is VERY salty about Erik Leaving, Pietro Maximoff Feels, Sabah Nur Maxed Out Stats in Charisma and Persuasion, dadneto
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 08:08:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27600044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FourAlignments/pseuds/FourAlignments
Summary: Stealing from a god was not one of Peter's best decisions he made in his life.
Relationships: En Sabah Nur & Pietro Maximoff, Erik Lehnsherr & Pietro Maximoff, Lorna Dane & Pietro Maximoff & Wanda Maximoff
Comments: 17
Kudos: 51





	The God and The Thief

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DigestedHuman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DigestedHuman/gifts).



> I blame DigestedHuman for this. 
> 
> I know I read this on Tumblr on one of DigestedHuman's post. But I think the idea of Erik having to work toward being a good father to Peter and not Peter contently worrying about being that perfect son has synergy with Dad! En Sabah Nur were the two have to work to counter each other's influence. 
> 
> I really think Oscar Isaacs deserved better in his role for Apocalypses. I've made my thoughts clear on my blog. But I want to add a little bit more. Oscar Isaacs gave off some Big Dad Energy in Star Wars with his Droid child BB-8 and he was screwed over by the writing in Star Wars. But I am glad he's gone on to find new projects. Good for him. 
> 
> Another note, as I was writing this, I went how is En Sabah Nur & Peter Maximoff NOT A THING? In Dadneto community??? I didn't know how much I needed this type of content as I was writing it. There is SO much potential in it! 
> 
> Also an update on my life, I went on my first date....and it ended terribly. It kinda of made me question the whole idea of dating in the first place. Then again I am an asexual... 
> 
> Also, Digested Human eat your heart out!

The world had gone to shit. When Apocalypse awakened and the world trembled, armies roared with their mighty tanks across desert sands and snowy mountain peaks. The world was holy unprepared. The world was divided; East vs West; capitalism vs communism; freedom vs authoritarianism; individuality vs collectivism. All false dichotomies in hegemonic domination. Instead of being unified against a single threat of all human civilization, didn’t matter. All that mattered was winning.

It began with Egypt and its subsequent collapse. On Western media it was a coup by an outside player. Coups were happening all over the place Bolivia, Liberia, Iran, Volta, and South Korea. Nothing special about this coup. He heard on the news after the Camp David Accords were signed President Sedat was assassinated. It was on for a few days. But it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. He went back to playing Pacman. It wasn’t like this was important. Who cared about this En Sabah Nur guy anyway? He really wished he paid attention more…

Apocalypse announced his ambitions for the world and for mutantkind to take their place as the true heirs to the lands of the Earth and sea.

At the UN, both the US and Soviet Union ambassadors didn’t do anything against Apocalypse to check his ambitions other than saying he was no threat to the world order because he didn’t have an army. All they wanted to know rather or not he would be playing in their game? Was he going to join the Western or Eastern bloc?

The US ambassador did give an ultimatum, laying down the ground rules of how the world worked: do not ally with the Soviet Union and allow them to expand their reach in the region; do not threaten the oil; do not cause international incidents that would lead to war, causing the Soviets to intervein and gain ground in the region; do not change the balance of power in the region; do not attack the state of Israel; do not disturb trade and communication along the Suez Canal.

Patted Sabah Nur on the head; thinking that he would be a willingly puppet and gave him a lump sum of six million dollars for his troubles; and that would be the last they heard of Sabah Nur. But Sabah Nur was having none of it and did not care for these arbitrary distinctions between humans for their alliances, wars, and goals.

The game had changed.

Mutants all around flocked to his cause; going to him in anyway possible: flight, train, automobile, or teleportation. Some of his friends took up arms in Sabah Nur’s cause. For want of power, privilege or testing their abilities that were restrained by human systems that kept from using their powers to their fullest. While other still went to find purpose beyond humanistic consumerism, materialism, and endless wheel of competition and dull draining of menial the nine to five days. The spirituality of credit, and congregation of malls. To buy and buy to fill an emptiness that could never be filled with material and luxury goods that where be thrown away once broken from their cheapness. It was a great awaken for them. He felt it like electricity in the air. It far outpaced Magneto’s speech at the White House, that was unfulfilled promise of change. But never acted upon. It was a time for change. A time of reckoning.

After school all day every day his friend, Jonothon Starsmore, would have VHS and cassettes tapes of Sabah Nur’s appearances and speeches that were recorded on them. Re-watch them over and over like he was rock star on MTV. A total and complete isolation. Jono had an utterly inconsistent reality from the rest of them; that would change on a dime. No matter how many facts or figures or statistical analysis he showed him Jono refused to accept anything other Sabah Nur’s word. Jono raved like a madman, going on tangents about how the world needed judgement for humanity’s crimes against mutantkind and how he needed to join him in that mission to bring about that new utopia for mutants. How mutants were secretly being kidnapped by the government and turned into sleeper agents that were going to be the downfall of mutant rights groups. They had to be careful around mutants, who espoused rhotic endorsing Xavier’s, Magneto’s, or even Mystique’s (now given the nickname ‘The Great Betrayer’ by Sabah Nur’s followers) ideology. They were the true mutants, who saw the world for what it really was and just how disposal mutants were in human society and Sabah Nur had shown them the light. He had never seen Jono this deeply devoted.

The truth didn’t matter to him anymore. If the truth ever existed.

He was horrified just how one mutant could—could do this to his best friend—turn him into someone he didn’t recognize anymore. All the time he was angry and wanting to start fights for the most trivial of things; it was particularly hard to be around him anymore as it was emotionally draining.

That summer before fall classes started, he headed to Jono’s house one last time. The plasmabender didn’t argue with him nor raised his voice against him; he acted like his normal self again. But Jono had told him that he was going to live with his uncles in Denmark for a while. And before he left Jono decided that they should enjoy the local nightlife at the X-Gen Club. Like an idiot he fell for it, thinking it was some type of apology. So, he went. 

Even has the electronic beats over too him drowning out any voices blasted by subwoofers; repeated over and over in a sweltering hypnotic melody, synthetic and artificial. Green and blue laser beamed from the stage, twirling around. Rave yelling, raising their arms into the air, crying with unbridle joy, convulsing and sinking laughing to the ground, mixed occasionally with desperate pleas such as: “I’ve found god!” and “I wish to serve you!” and “We’ll bring the end of humanity rein on Earth!” and “I’ll use my dying breath to bring it about! Just let me fight!” While other watched the deprived show, smoking and drinking, along the sidelines of the dance floor. He could see mutants carted off and taken behind back. They were Shanghaiing mutants, so drunk and high on drugs, even they didn’t know what was going on.

Beneath all the gritty, growling, and fuzzy with their abrasive and aggressive notes of the music that threatened to costume him he heard this: _Humanity is the enemy of mutantkind. Join En Sabah Nur’s cause. Fight for your freedom and future. Find your purpose._

It was hard even to think with some many people crammed and humping up and down on the dance floors. This thick sweetly smell almost like honey, almond, and cardamom mixed with tobacco, alcohol and the dry ice fog lifting into the air.

He didn’t want to be here, it wasn’t safe. It wasn’t safe anywhere. But before he could scoot his chair out, their drinks came and from its smell it was a very strong drink. Not taking a sip, just swirling the liquid in the glass as Jono spoke to him, a last-ditch effort to join Sabah Nur’s cause. ‘How En Sabah Nur only wanted the strongest mutants.’ ‘Sabah Nur was the Father of all mutantkind and he could fill that hole left by his absent father.’

Why he didn’t punch Jono in the face, he didn’t know.

A father that didn’t give a damn about his family. No explanations. No visits. No letters. It was just better if he wasn’t in his life at all. As far as anyone knew, he was a traveling salesman. And liked he cared about finding him; his mom, Wanda, Lorna were far more important in his life and gave it meaning, far beyond than genetic material would. The only thing he knew about his father was he a mutant.

He never saw Jono again after that night.

At first Apocalypse appeared not be a threat by the talking heads on the news, but there were alarmists. That next Sunday morning as did play dress up with Wanda and again not paying attention and desperate to get thoughts of Jono of his head. His family was all that mattered.

Charles Xavier and William Stryker had guest appearances on Meet the Press, Face the Nation, and State of the Nation…but they were both on at the same time. They were on opposite sides of the political spectrum on mutant rights. And were quite open of how much they despised one another’s polices. But in this topsy-turvy world that he now inhabited, they both agreed Apocalypse was a threat that needed to be taken seriously by both the US and the Soviet Union; needed to be the Cold War aside and take out, before Apocalypse got too powerful and gained too much of a foothold.

For a long while, just a couple of months not a peep came from Apocalypse and the world moved on. Apocalypse was just another raving madman wanting to have his five minutes of fame.

Then…a strange blight crept over the area and everything changed. The countless birds, who feed on berries and seeds on European fields of checkered corps of wheat, barley, and potatoes with citrus, rye, turnups and millet; were moribund, they trembled violently and could not fly. Everywhere was this shadow of death Herds of cattle still thick and fat and heathy died by the countless in the mountainous fields that they lay. Puffy sheep’s wool would shed off and bleed like phyllo dough. Hordes of rabbits driven by hunger and ate everything green there was; even would eat the bark off of fencepost. The eggs by chickens and guineafowl were fragile and the yolks were black. The corps in Eastern Europe and of the Balkans had shriveled up and died in the fields; turning black and gooey and poisonous to eat. No one knew the cause of it. If no one did anything there would be a massive famine in the likes the world had never seen.

In a brief reprieve of the Cold War tensions, the United States, and allies; other countries around the world; and international aid organizations came together and gave food and scientists to figure out why this blight was occurring. But it didn’t go without comment of the more hawkish advisors that perhaps this wound was self-inflicted. It started with one country closing its border to food imports from affected countries. Other countries followed suit but underlying issues, rivalries, and grievances imagined or real came up in the debate. It became tit or tat with tariffs being slapped on imported fruits, bread, vegetables, processed food, and beef. Food prices shot up overnight doubling in price.

Then the issue of foul play and dishonest actors came up in a report from scientists. Elected officials twisted the words to fit their own narrative, but they didn’t read the part about the blight being genetical engineered a technology that was still decades away from producing anything like this. It became less about finding the truth, than blaming each other.

The Soviets moved troops into the Balkans and East Germany, expecting to qual social unrest and protest. Enforce cohesion though authoritarian force.

No one was paying attention to what Sabah Nur was doing. Just small skirmishes said the CNN news pundits. This ragtag army of mutants couldn’t take down the Soviet Union and the Warsaw Pact in mountain pass of the Caucasus. It was only the Soviet Union. If En Sabah Nur defected the Soviet Union than that would mean the United States became the world’s sole superpower. At first the United States and NATO countries was perfectly content with Apocalypse invading the Soviet Union through the Caucasus and Black Sea.

There was no news reporting it, no unrest, no rebellions to speak of, no SOS or cries for aid. It was a communications blackout. Radio silence, not even their ambassadors at the UN could get hold of their leaders. Sabah Nur’s territory stretched from the river valley of Cairo to the bay of Tripoli to Chaouia plains of Casablanca touching the Atlantic. Nations at the UN condemned the invasions and demanded the immediate return of conquered lands; talks of blockades and sanctions for Sabah Nur’s illegal military actions. But the intelligence agencies of CIA, MI5, DGSE and Mossad in Operation Revealing Light

Out of the operatives sent, one made it back alive. Mental disbursed as if her soul had been sucked out.

The Psi Corp was the reason why. The best way he could describe them a mix between telepaths and the secret police. Fear, surprise and ruthless efficiency and a fanatical devotion to Sabah Nur. Any thought of resistance, sabotage, or threat were squashed in a second. People would disappear. Rooted out enemy spies and it became impossible to get any intelligence on activities throughout the area. Imposed harsh measures against any mutant who didn’t follow Sabah Nur’s philosophy.

Shred minds, replace entire personalities, steal memories, possessed their bodies, relive someone’s worst fears over and over. They had no limits. To have limits was to be human. Any telepath that didn’t follow was and met with suspicion, they were too human, too ready to submit to human whims.

The Psi Corp could be anyone, anywhere, but they would know everything. They were the eyes of god.

The US sent in the sixth fleet to patrol the Aegean and Levantine Sea. With rumors of island hopping off the coast of Anatolia. The explosion heard around the world the USS Odyssey, a supercarrier, of 5,000 crew members all killed. A missile undetectable by radar, sonar, and invisible to the eye had struck the vessel. The UN ambassador sent by Sabah Nur said it was simply a weapon test gone wrong. A malfunction.

It took a day for the United States to declare war and NATO members followed suit; an attack on one members was an attack on all. In a show of force by NATO sent over bombers to stop Sabah Nur’s supply lines into the Caucasus. But it still didn’t stop Apocalypse’s forces. Barely made a dent in their progress. Because of one thing: force fields. Any ground gained by Apocalypse’s force was ground kept, so every inch of dirt mattered; and to give up an inch was to hand Apocalypse a mile. Air superiority meant nothing in this new age of war; the Cold War was over, and a new war had begun.

This war was unlike any other. A global psychic reverberated throughout the world like tsunami. Wiped out half of the Soviet’s forces in under an hour. Civilian telepaths, empaths other psionics collapsed, screamed, overwhelmed by this incredible sadness and misery. Some fell into comas, doctors not knowing if they would wake up again. Even non-telepaths felt it giving them migraines; crying, but knowing why. It was at this moment that humanity knew that it was screwed. Experts on mutant telepaths warned that Apocalypse wasn’t even at full strength. 

The nuclear option was on the table and again the leaders of world, commanded En Sabah Nur to stop and not to cross the 36th parallel north. If he did than the whole arsenal of freedom would be used to obliterate his armies and irradiate his lands and turning flesh into dust leaving shadows in their wake, leveling mountains, and laying waste to entire regions would be shown the wrath of God.

Just to smite humanity down once more. Sabah Nur considered nuclear weapons to be an abomination, affront to mutantkind’s protentional that humans could never hope to achieve no matter how hard. To think

It was a lesson in futility that humanity needed a firm hand to grasp. Nuclear weapons were mere arrows shot from the Tower of Babel. En Sabah Nur judged humanity and found them wanting.

The real divide started to show:

Human vs mutant.

And things just got worse. 

Fearing the worse of mutantkind. Many human lead governments around the world gave mutants, who were fighting age, three options: join the military, imprisonment, or power suppressants that were devastating, which brought on insomnia, migraines, fatigue, and a strong mood destabilizer that often lead to suicidal depression. Those who were more patriotic and had a strong civic pride joined; seeing Sabah Nur as the bigger threat. Perhaps in the future the draft for mutants would end after the war was over. Some wanted no part in this battle for either side they thought Sabah Nur was a fanatic, who only cared acquiring more power and blamed the US government for their inaction against Sabah Nur in the first place. So, they fled to freer countries. While other still tried to pass off as human.

But for others, it just proved Sabah Nur’s point that the moment mutantkind assumed their full potential that human beings couldn’t stand the sight of it. Mutants were for the longest time were regulated to invisibility, yet still in this burgeoning period of appearing and showing what mutantkind was capable of was a violent act—against the structure of society—humanity had built their entire identity over the idea of being superior to mutants---humanity did not want to change—mutants had be shown their place in his new order of things. Humanity lack of respect of mutantkind left a grievous wound: mutants would be seen, not as deviant, uncontrollable monsters, but as person worthy of respect and recognition. That’s what Sabah Nur promised to build out the ashes of this world, so they could build a better one.

Adding to the growing fear and conspiracy that all mutants wanted some form of Sabah Nur’s vision of the new world order.

Yet, Charles Xavier stepped and demanded the government give major concessions in mutant rights after the war was over because the status quo was deplorable and the idea of returning to normal wasn’t plateable anymore. Just the threat of a general strike of the entire mutant population was enough for the President to bend the knee and accept the terms and building a better society afterwards. But Xavier’s native got in the way in seeing reality and how power worked in D.C. It didn’t occur to Charles to add in provisions of no extermination on mutants in the armed forces.

But of all the shitty things happening the world, there was a beacon of hope for mutantkind and humanity as well. The founding of Genosha, that welcomed all refugees, human and mutant alike.

But now the fighting between humanity and Sabah Nur had come to a standstill in a bitter, brutal, slow, and miserable battle of attrition.

Yet the human nations of the world were buckling with every new front Sabah Nur opened meant the further stretching thin of vital resources and manpower. Multiple fronts on the India’s border along Pakistan, battlelines protecting of Mecca and Medina; a push toward the Kara Sea on the Soviet front; on the Straits of Gibraltar artillery bombardments; island hopping on the Aegean islands; now the Eastern Seaboard.

Hope. The mere spark of it. Made all sides continued on the fight, hoping, praying for their side to prevail.

Every mutant counted.

A single mutant could change the tide of the war.

*****

It was so dry…so hot.

Stealing from a physical god was not the best decision he made his entire life, ambit the short twenty years he’d been living it. His lips chapped, the skin flaking off and waxy. His tongue thick and swollen, flopping in his dry mouth like a landed whale unable to get sufficient water. It hurt even to sallow.

He was one of the lucky ones, Peter guessed to have some form of sunlight streaking in from the bars of walls of his jail cell. But he was baking inside, the consent waves of intense blinding heat of the sunlight absorbed into the cut sandstone that made up the basement of En Sabah Nur’s palace that was facing the courtyard. Then at night it became so cold, frigidly cold; he would shiver to gain any semblance of warmth.

He could hear the clicking of heels, and the intimate conversations happening of his guests and mutant followers, who came from all corners of the world to the pledge loyalty to this supposed god-devil. But not an inky was ever given to the lives under their feet. The humans, who came to serve him; willingly to give up their own mutant children to save themselves. They were offered the ever so great award of becoming servants of mutant households; forever trapped in domestic servitude. Couldn’t speak unless spoken too.

It was a matter of if he was going to beheaded, flayed alive, immurement (place in a box in the middle of dessert and left to die), or boiled. Peter shifted his position and his chains clinked on the ground. For the better part of the first few hours of his imprisonment he had tried to vibrate out of his shackle bracelets were wide and engraved with hieroglyphs. His constant movement left his hands and ankles rubbed raw, bright red with burst veins and blistering up with puffiness. After a while, the cuffs began to reshape themselves and tighten. The hieroglyphs that lined glowed bright gold for a second unleashing blistering pain

This irradiating pain spread throughout his entire body like a low stream of electricity running through him. At first, he felt heavier and his limbs wouldn’t cooperate, his mind lagged like a computer trying and failing to hook up to dial-up internet. Life became a standstill. Dull and reparative with only the guards walking up and down the prison corridor at random intervals. The occasions when the sun would set and rise were wrong. He was cut off from his powers. Resting his head against the unforgiving wall, Peter closed his eyes. No one was going to save him. Not his father. He was in the heart of Sabah Nur’s territory. The warfront was miles away and there was no way there would be a breakthrough in any of the fronts.

His father… Peter gave a gargled huff. That man really didn’t deserve to be called his father, not being his life, caring about him or raised him. And right as the world was ending. He contacted them. Now of all times, despite everything he did to his family; right as En Sabah Nur’s forces were breaching the US’s East Coast defenses in an uncovered war plan called: Speared Eagle. He addressed him as _Pietro_. Not even his real name.

He was going to pick them up and take them to safe and in a secure spot; where Peter wouldn’t have to fight unless he wanted to. Had the audacity to command him not to do anything stupid. A man who never once contacted his family for anything. Peter and his family would be safe.

The Motherfucker lied.

He never showed up. To aspect anything other than disappointment and pain from that man was one constant in his life. His father, who left without explanation, the man who didn’t give a damn, didn’t send money to help them. That man, who if Peter was honest really wasn’t his father. He didn’t give a damn about his family. Comforting words on sheet of paper, rang hallow in the blaring sirens and bombs shaking the foundation of their house as he, his mom, Wanda, and Lorna hid in his basement room.

Previous installed sirens by the Federal Civil Defense Admiration against nuclear war were now being used against air raids and artillery bombardment. Bombs created firestorms that only the demons of hell could appreciate, the sky turned orange with so much smoke whipping into the atmosphere. Ash fell from the sky like snow making the very air they breathe toxic. Lorna screaming in terror in his arms, her powers activating and her small knuckles pounding against his chest; the metal of the cans of food rattling. Peter did his best to calm Lorna down telling her stories, singing ‘Don't Stop Believin,’ ‘Livin' On A Prayer,’ and ‘Thriller.’ Anything to keep Lorna’s mind off the bombardment and hopefully keep her imagination alive.

He didn’t want to be in this war, he wanted no part of it. His remaining friends were shipping out to do their basic training at Fort Hood. Wanted to spend their last night on the town or what was left in the burnout husk of the bar. His friends berated him for his supposed cowardice of not taking the call of joining the service of protecting their fellow citizen and that it was duty as a mutant to sign up to defect theses homunculi weren’t even mutants had to be annihilated. This repeatable rhetoric and talking points about the enemy and how Sabah Nur was experimenting on mutants. Which was hypocritical, Stryker and army or whatever secretive projects already experimented on mutants even before the war. The government thought mutants were the children of the atom, then surely blasting mutants with radiation would make them stronger. Questionable logic. Along with other means... He simply told them: “Now they can only use their powers for worthless causes such as: ‘nation’ and ‘country.’” Gave a pause a quiet rapture overtook the group, before adding, “Whatever happened to using their gifts for ourselves? Taking out empty beer cans and showing off their gifts to one another late in summer nights.” Peter could see the virus of hate, jingoism, and aggression festering in their eyes that any ounce of criticism or doubt of the “cause” couldn’t be endured. Before things got ugly and a bar fight could break out, Peter ran way…again. 

Behind him as ran he heard shouts of: “Coward!”, “Traitor!”, “Sabah Nur synthesizer!” and “Weak!”

Sure, he stole to keep himself feed, but killing…. He learned early on just how easily he could break bones with a single tap of his finger at high speed. After the war, they won’t recall even being human. War twisted people into something ugly and scars ran deep into the darkness of man’s souls.

It didn’t matter who it was the United States, United Kingdom, France, or Sabah Nur they were the destroyers of peace and happiness, reapers of destructions and discord; wrapped up in violence that had no purpose, simply war for the sake it. Wars justified on whims and casus belli. No mattered what the other side about their rational justifications were flimsy lies; any assumptions of moral righteous when there was death at an industrialized scale and leaving behind ash of towns and collateral damage of civilians deemed acceptable in mass by the political elite. It was about power, dominance, and strength. Mutants were mere pawns in this power play in the changing of the guard of world systems.

Sabah Nur wasn’t the cause of it; there were wars before and it had no alternative. The entire world was at stake! They said. If it was…why didn’t they stop Sabah Nur before it would get this far? If he was that much of a threat? Sabah Nur was no better. Sabha Nur started a war to sacrifice thousands of young mutants for nothing. Young mutants became tools of destruction and slaughter for a man’s own ego.

It was far from a noble goal of the liberation of mutantkind. He wanted mutant dominance, that’s what he wanted. To become the God-Emperor of Earth for himself, and keeping himself in power no matter who he had to suppress with his Psi Corp or outright kill to keep his reign intact.

As he rushed back to his neighborhood street to see volunteers knocking on doors and handing out paperwork; and, a campaign van loaded with a megaphone instructing the mandatory evacuation of all school age children from East Coast to more inland areas in the Midwest, Southwest, the Rockies, and Pacific Northwest. Passenger planes were flying nonstop, coast to coast; airlines pulled airplanes out of storage and quickly got them airworthy certified to boost capacity. Passenger rail once thought to be a financially dead end, turned on its head and in post haste-built passenger cars to travel across the nation.

His sisters were on the first flight at eight that next morning. Peter would make the best out of their last day together; playing hide and go seek, dress up and tea and sharing the many of his Hostess snacks (he had more than he needed anyway). Going on a walk with them seeing the sun setting, when the clear blue sky touched the orange, not hateful, but vibrant. Gary slathered clouds on the horizon while milky clouds higher the atmosphere strolled passed. They watched the sky until the stars came out unglazed by light pollution with the mandatory shut down blackouts of all electric lights. Milky way with its dark hazy band wrapping around the night sky…It made this war seem so pointless, humans and mutants fighting a war over a speck of dirt on a pale blue dot to become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot. To think of all the rivers of blood being spilled and lives lost, but that they were all pixels on a small blue mote. 

The next morning, they went to the airport and waited at the gate for the plane. There were many more families like them sending their children off to the unknown, on the promise that they would be kept safe and away from the fighting and violence. It was probably the last time he would ever see Wanda and Lorna again. Tears streamed from his eyes as Wanda and Lorna pulled away from him and his hug. Lorna waved back at him running to board.

On the drive back and arriving at home, hoping to find some peace. There was a military man with his formal uniform with all the dingle medals sitting at their dinner table with a buzz cut along with a woman wearing a navy suit with a white button up blouse. It was the women, who spoke first saying that she was part of a top-secret military task force: The Freedom Force. At first Peter thought this was just a joke, a prank. A name like that could only come from G.I. Joe. It had to be. No one in their right mind would name anything something so ridiculous, Peter busted out laughing.

The women cleared her throat and went on her pre-scripted speech of how what an honor it was to join this elite mutant task force. And how selective the process was in gathering a team of extraordinary mutant for someone like him to be chosen. Even Joint Special Operations Command didn’t know this division existed. Only the President and a few key securities knew of the Freedom Force existence and was headed by Brigadier General William Stryker. Peter was offered if he joined many opportunities and it would be seen as him paying off his debts to society for his teen delinquent behavior. He could find purpose in life rather than waiting for the world to end.

Like he owed this lady anything! Who the hell was _she_ to tell him what gave life meaning and purpose?

She slammed her file down and gave the lay of the land and just what waited him if he joined: his entire record would be wiped cleaned of all past wrong doing; a grand salary of 100,000 dollars; his mother’s debts jubileed; after the war was ended, he would receive a sizeable pension, if he wanted to go college a total subsidized and payed for by the government; healthcare paid for; the government would pay him for the rest of life. The President himself summoned him. If he didn’t accept the offer, he would be arrested for treason and forced join as the law required. Now, he a choice. She flipped through her file and pulled out some forms to sign.

Peter did the only thing he was good at: Running. It was all that he had left. A mutant without a country. An older brother without younger sisters. A child without a mother.

A son without a father.

Those were happier memories, happier moments that were like snowdrops wilting in the hottest of summer days. But no tears would shed from Peter’s eyes gritty sand and dust caught in the corners of his eyes. Even in this baking heat, no sweat poured down the back of Peter’s now tattered black Rush T-shirt, almost completely shredded at this point.

The sound of heavy footsteps coming through the corridor caught Peter’s attention, normally the guard would pass by his cell, before the prisoner taken was screaming and begging for their life as they were dragged passed. No…it wasn’t just one, but a pair. The usual chatter, whispers of escape plans and the wailing of those who had given up among the cellmates; dissipated as the two walked by. The guard stopped at his and his cell door clicked open.

Peter’s eyes went wide as he failed to blink. A small tumor danced across his spine. Oh—He was absolutely totally fucked!

Standing right in front of him was En Sabah Nur himself.

His skin was ancient gray as quartzite from Jabal Moussa’s karst rocks, jagged and unforgiving. But, harden and sandblasted by the Western desert and years, centuries of fighting of many lifetimes. Yet despite being from antiquity, he had industrial tubing from the bottom of his shoulder blades and inserting into triceps. Sabah Nur was bare chested except for the matted plate pauldrons extending into sleeves; and the glossy obsidian black armor lined his spine in downwards arrows before reaching his waist, while reaching up to his neck and forming a crown on the back of his head and extending to his to the cusp of his forehead. Cybernetic thin line of metal stretched out from tragus, protecting the ear canal, trailing his upper jaw to the corners of his lips. Black-gold shentis plaited and sealed with an armor plate, rubbed to see the aeneous outlines of ankh cross inside of a triangle: the symbol of En Sabah Nur.

The Eternal Pharaoh flicked his eyes to the side and a transparent purple sphere rippling through space and time, before revealing a clear open faced container of water and a small mazer bowl. The elder god mutant picked up the bowl and dipped into the edge of water. The water swirled filling the bowl.

Came over to Peter and brought it up to the younger mutant’s lips. Water had never taste so sweet. Had the water always tasted so good? Even Pepsi, Tab or Sprite didn’t taste this good! Peter’s body heaved coughing heavily and spitting out the precious water. Steading the boy encouraging the younger mutant to drink more. Gulping it down into his empty stomach that had been deprived of water and food for so long. After taking a few large gulps the bowl was emptied. Peter’s eyes went wide as the bowl pulling away strings of saliva along with it from his gummy lips. He needed more of it.

It was too slow for Peter’s liking. His dark eyes sluggishly followed the bowl as it was plunged into that water glinting off the sun’s rays at crests off the top of the container. Before it was brought up to his lips again. Peter devoured determined to get every drop of water he could, slurping it down, as tiny streams drizzled from the corners of his month and pattered on to the sandstone floor before being evaporated by the sun. This happened a few more times until Peter had his fill of water and shaking his head ‘no.’ Not once did Peter look at En Sabah Nur in the eye; he refused to, even as he was too weak to even stand.

Sabah Nur slithered the front of hand underneath Peter’s throat and lifted the speedster’s head so look into the younger mutant’s eyes. But the elder mutant’s body stiffened and his eyes rose for a briefest of moments to take Peter’s face in more fully; staring into Peter’s soul. Sabah Nur’s jaw became tense, biting the back of his molars. “I know that look, I know that look all too well…” Perhaps he was wrong…this couldn’t be the mutant who started the war. He couldn’t be. “The wanting, the waiting, of a son made fatherless. But not made from death or dying in battle to protect his family. No…but of a derelict of duty. Your father chose to abandoned you.” Every word hurt for Peter; it was like he was pierced through by arrows. They were all true. Wounds thought Peter had healed through years of neglected were ripped raw; thoughts of resentment, anger, insecurities and undeserving of love. Peter became enraptured, frozen by each word he spoke. Sabah Nur was like him. A son without a father. “The want—to prove yourself that your worthy of his love. He’s never going to come. And he’ll never will. That man is unworthy of being called your father. And never wanted to be a father.” Sabah Nur brought his hand up and started rubbing soothing circles into the younger mutant’s cheek with his thumb and with the other smoothed Peter’s unkept titanium hair dusted with sand. “Fatherhood is a joyous blessing to provide, protect, and nurture for their children, but also a scared responsibility of all men. But, for a man not to teach his son—is shameful.” Sabah Nur smiled understandingly—it was so much more than that. It was one of those smiles that sons only got from their fathers that had enteral reassurance in it. The whole world for an instant vanished, contracted on _him_ with unshakeable commitment. It understood him as he wanted to be understood, believed in as he sought to be believe in himself, wanted him at his best. “It is not you who are undeserving of being his son. It is _him_ who is undeserving of you. You deserve so much better, my child. But what happened to you, Peter—to us. Sickens me!”

Feeling unworthy to ask such a question, Peter asked, “Where were you when my father left me?” Sabah Nur sank to the ground and waved over a hand. The chains that once bound him became sand; Peter rubbed his wrists.

“Alone…in darkness.” He’d been here too. Jono was a faraway memory. His father was nowhere to be found and didn’t care where he was. He found someone better, someone actually worthy of being a father that he never had. Sabah Nur gave a distressed sigh of seeing how much of mutantkind was led astray, “Unable to help my children, when they needed me the most. Led astray, their bellies maybe full, but left spirituality empty. Costumed by greed and false idols. Isolated and alone, disconnected from the solidary of our own kind. I should have woken up sooner, so you would not have suffered as I have suffered. A pain that I do not anymore of our people to live through. That is a mistake on my part, my child. A mistake, I must make atonement for every moment of inaction.” Peter couldn’t believe what he was hearing. No hypocrisy, no aim to persuade of no wrong doing, no hint of sarcasm. This internal sadness settling in his rich umber eyes, here in the deepest dream that could not bring a past that Peter never know the power of. A resolution to keep Peter from harm.

Sabah Nur continued, “In my absentee feckless leaders, who are blinded by their own ambitions and greed have taken my place. False gods. Who use mutants to keep themselves power, while doing nothing!” Capturing Peter’s hand. Sabah Nur as he traced the delicate turquoise and lavender veins interweaving in the speedster’s wrist, feeling the hummingbird beat fluttering beneath his fingertip; the wounds faded away.

“I would have raised you myself if given the chance.” Sabah Nur licked the inner lining of his lip, “My love for you Peter is infinite.” Let it sink into Peter’s soul, “Unlike others, who have neglected and disowned you for his own selfishness and pride. Costumed by his own ego.”

Peter curled his fingers into a ball fist, he had this fire inside and it roared inside of him. He didn’t want to forgive this man, his biological father. 

“I will never abandon you, my son.” Son. He’d liked it a lot. A promise. A promise of something better. Peter could stop the running. He screamed and no one heard him, no one paid attention to him. Not his friends. Not his community. Not his father. He couldn’t return home. Home was an empty dream lost to the spiraling fires of war. The government would be after him and Stryker most likely jailed his mom. The moment he set foot on American soil he would be tried for treason. It was death or join Stryker’s death squad. He had nothing. “I’m here for you, my son. You’ll suffer no more.”

“I keep asking myself ‘what did I do wrong?’ Over and over that one day my dad might come back and we could have a normal family. No matter I what I did, no matter how much I tried…I’m never goin’ to be good enough.” Why was he spilling this to a mutant, who only met five minutes ago? Peter had to finally admit to himself that he _hated_ this man, who was never in his life and never cared about him. “I screwed up! I can’t even—Wanda, Lorna—protect them…” Petering out. He saw their eyes of judgement of on him, the sneers, the endless torment, and bullying. There was a time where he hid his sliver hair in a beanie catering to his tormentors wishes; just to make them to stop bullying him. The adults thought it was a good builder of character and to be more resilient in unforgiving circumstances, but they didn’t do anything to stop it. He wasn’t worth their time. “I’m a total loser, alright!” Peter shouted.

“Why do you enslave yourself?” Peter mouthed out a ‘what?’ Sabah Nur clarified his statement, “Why do you enslave yourself to that man’s opinion?” Shaking his head in disapproval of this man, who hurt his child. “Your gifts are extraordinary. You put limits on yourself because of that man, who dares! To think of himself as your father. That man, who thinks sending mere letters to you is enough to prove his worth and the honor it is to call you his _son_.” Before adding, “Your powers are limitless, my son. I want to set you free.”

“I don’t really know…I-I want him to be in my life. When I was a kid, I told myself this stupid lie that my father was Batman and off fighting crime and that’s why he wasn’t around to take care of us. Then I realized he isn’t coming back and I’m worthless to him.”

“And yet he still holds power over you.” Shaking his head, “Hear me, you are not worthless. You do not need that man. I want make you stronger, if you let me, child.”

Peter starkly asked: “How?”

“He’s going to know to the full reach of your power.” Getting up from the ground from where he was sitting, “Tell me, what do you know about your father?” Saying with absolute disgust and contempt. To dull the pure potential radiating from the boy’s being was infuriating. Peter would no longer suffer in the suffocating miasma of this pathetic man’s influence. There were no second chances.

This man would know fear.

Peter shrugged his shoulders, and said nonchalantly: “My mom said he could control metal.”

This caught the elder mutant’s attention. Erik Lehnsherr. Erik Lehnsherr was this boy’s father. “A challenge.” His eyes mulled over the given facts. Erik would be coming after his son it was only a matter of time; and wherever Erik went Charles soon followed. A chagrin over took Sabah Nur’s lips and murmured to himself that Peter could not hear, so immersed in his words like an ocean wave crashing over him and overtaking him, “The solution to ending the war.” The child didn’t know his own heritage. What a gift he was given. All thanks to Erik Lehnsherr.

His son would only know loyalty. 

“Tell me, Peter. Why did you steal from me?” There was no anger, no ridicule nor did he raise his voice at the younger mutant. Not even lecturing him on the ‘shame and dishonor brought on to his family’ and ‘how this reflected on the poor parenting’ and ‘how he was a bad person by being a thief.’ He despised how adults would speak over him and put motivations to his actions. Peter never really felt guilty or shame for what he did. But this time he did. It was like his heart was being weighed. Yet, he found pure understanding.

He’d much prefer Sabah Nur yell at him than this. Peter’s shoulders dropped and answered, “I was bored…I guess.” Peter gave a pause, “And I thought it’d be fun.”

Sabah Nur licked his bottom lip and gave a huff before a heavy laugh overtook him and reverberated throughout the cellblock. The elder mutant’s laughter died down.

Peter flashed a smile, but a wave of uncertainty overcame him. Sabah Nur turned his back and started to leave his cell. Peter had this nagging feeling to get away; that something would bad happen. He knew, but he didn’t know why. With all those connections Sabah Nur _wouldn’t_ hurt. His biological father hurt him scarring with deep wounds.

Peter gasped as his dark pearl eyes were overtaken becoming moon-glazed with flecks of iridescences. He screamed for the first time since the war started. As was being overwhelmed into submission by memories, emotions, and thoughts that weren’t his own becoming like a tornedo of shapes and sounds spinning faster and faster; he didn’t know where he was anymore and which direction he was going; blurring together and didn’t stop. He wanted it to STOP! His vocal cords gave out and his scream became a mute surrender. Collapsing on the sandstone floor, Peter’s eyelashes fluttering close like a hummingbird’s wings as darkness subjected him as he fell into unconsciousness.

He’d seen those eyes, those dark, warm eyes; but this child’s eyes were his eyes. It was like a part of his soul was being reflected back at him. Who spent years wondering aimlessly through the desert, stumbling in the dark, trying to meaning and purpose; the want, the need to come back. To be reborn as the sun rises. But he was found. A lost son was found again.

“Welcome home, my son.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please do comment. For Fanfiction writers comments make the world go round. It also gives me someone to talk to in this pandemic. What do you think my characterization of En Sabah Nur? I hoped I did Oscar Isaac justice. 
> 
> I know Shaw gets wrote about a lot in the community as he relates to Erik's character so there is a lot to work with. I see En Sabah Nur being to Peter what Shaw is to Erik. There is a lot someone can do with his character and it also gives another angle to Dadneto, a rivalry of sorts for Erik.


End file.
